


Hole in the World

by Sauou



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Angst, Denial of Feelings, Longing, M/M, but i thought it fit, moocat - Freeform, quote at the bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 23:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10818732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauou/pseuds/Sauou
Summary: "There's a hole in the world, feel like we ought to have known.."Wildcat/MooSnuckel





	Hole in the World

There was a hole in the world when the sun fell down; an empty longing that lingered in his heart and Tyler could neither accurately describe to his friends, nor give a real name to. If there was something to define it by, a label of sorts, he might feel less off-center.

But the nights where long and lonely. And he’d end up spending hours yelling just to hear his own voice bounce off the walls.

Just to hear s _om_ eone speak.

Playing the most rage-inducing games, all the things that made him mad, made him hurt. Until his head throbs from the burning inside of him and he wants to pick his computer up and throw it out a window.

Light shimmers in the corner of his eyes, a faint glow, and when he turns there, on his desk, his phone flashes. The light quick, but dim. Silent in the quiet chamber of his room.

And when he picks it up, the screen is too bright for a moment. His eyes have to adjust, begin to focus.

But, in his messages a text is waiting for him. Only a few lines that say, _come on. We’re waiting for you._

Come play with us.

.

His voice breaks.

Cracks under pressure, beneath the force of his laughter, and tears pool in the corners of his eyes as he wheezes, unable to breathe.

To do anything but slam his fist against the desk. The unmovable wood bruising his wrist but this, this is a good kind of pain.

The screen lights up the room and his face is beet red, he can see it reflected back at him in the image from the web cam.

In his friends’ faces as they laugh along with him.

.

His steps grow longer.

His strides fiercer as he walks, _runs_ along the walk up to his house. His shoes beating against the ground from the sheer force of his movement. The grass sways as he passes by.

His hand is quick against the knob.

And then the door slams behind him, shuts with a _click_ and, he is alone.

The walls bare and white, pale of posters or memorabilia to say that he was here. That he lived in this space, empty of other people, of any other sound than the ones that he made himself.

This house with it’s awkward furniture that never seemed to fit him quite right. Like a shoe several sizes too big, he just rattled around inside, lost.

He paces through the kitchen, grabbing whatever is in reach and throws it together, hungry. Desperate for something that gnaws in the bottom of his stomach.

Chips and soup and peppers, and he stops drinking the RedBull mid-sip to lower the can and stare, eerily at it.

Tilts the can into the concoction and stirs.

.

 _Really?_ Brock types in the chat when Tyler logs back on, that hole deep inside of him finally full and satisfied.

He slips his headphones over his ears and looks up in time to see the smile widening across Brock’s cheeks, like a flower blooming in the sunshine.

Like a thousand bulbs blossoming at once, a field of flowers..

“Did you really throw some Doritos and RedBull in of bowl of soup or are you just having me on..?” His head tilts as if he’s not quite sure to believe Tyler, but the laughter in Brock’s eyes tell a different story.

Tyler just nods. Barely able to hold back the grin peeling from his lips.

Brock bursts into laugh, head titling back from the sudden noise, pure mirth and joy exploding out of him.

Tyler adds, “It seemed like a good idea at the time!” And though he tries, his mouth can’t stop smiling.

He can’t contain himself.

“It tasted like shit, I ordered a pizza later.” He admits and Brock is clutching his chest, leaning against the desk on his side of the screen and struggling just to breathe.

The sight is mesmerizing, a rapture he can’t depart from.

Tyler covers his mouth with his hand in a vain attempt to contain himself and whispers, _I wish you were here to cook for me._

.

The weeks are long, and lonely. His house is cold when he walks in it and his voice bounces off the walls, comes back to him a hundredfold.

But void of something that he desperately yearns for, what he really needs.

.

Standing in the middle of the convention’s lobby, on the tips of his toes, his whole body on edge and nervous with the press and roar of a hundred thousand people rushing past him, moving all around him.

Their eyes catch on him, some of them knowing who he is, and many not.

Tyler quickly gets swarmed by fans, soon enough. Dozens of voices calling out and greeting him.

Wanting to shake his hand, say hello, ask him questions.

_Who are - How did - When did you -  
_

And time buzzes around him, lingering and loose as he smiles back and takes the handshakes and pats shoulders and answers questions.

Noise.

And people.

He is warm in his toes as he rocks on the balls of his feet and talks, open, his voice carrying far.

.

Brock looks up when he hears the unmistakable roar of Tyler. But he’s surrounded and looking so engaged and free that Brock has to turn away, find something else to occupy him.

But he can’t.

Tyler’s face is so soft and warm that he finds himself openly staring, unable to look away.

Or back off.

His feet tentatively draw him closer, shuffle across the carpet and the murmur of his shoes is drowned out under the roar of the crowd as he stops there. Just beyond the line.

Watching.

.

There is a tingling down his neck, Tyler turns to look but he can’t see anything beyond the throng of people around him, they ebb and flow like water, a wave that entraps him.

A shout beyond the line, just behind it, and several heads turn to look.

He doesn’t register what was said, or by who, but the soft curl of hair he knows so well, the sudden _Ah_ by a voice he could find anywhere.

Brock is half turned away from him, hunched in on himself, and the sight registers long enough in Tyler for him to find himself suddenly there.

A dozen people thrown aside, trying to regain their balance from the force of nature that is Tyler.

Few turn and glare, and then a few more begin to speak up, but their voices quickly die away as they turn and process the sight before them.

The face Tyler makes at everyone around him is a thing not to be trifled with. He holds Brock close, wraps his arms tightly around him and holds him deep against his chest. His chin pressing into the top of Brock’s head, ruffling the locks of his hair.

Tyler’s eyes are cold, but his hands are warm.

They burn across Brock’s cheek until he’s lit afire, burning up with embarrassment.

With something that lights him up, soothes the hole inside of him and makes his skin clammy with sweat. A thing that he knows _of_ but finds impossible to give word to.

As if by labeling it, he would make it go away..

.

**Author's Note:**

> FRED: (cont'd) ... there's so many  
> things I had to say. (suddenly urgent) I could've loved you, I would have, I have to say that  
> to you --  
> [..]  
> SPIKE: (softly) There's a hole in the world. Feel like we ought to have known.
> 
> [ a hole in the world : angel s5 e15 ]


End file.
